A short little drabble set a year after the events in Home. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Not mine!
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"Where the hell is it?"
The question earned Merle Dixon a look of loathing from Glenn. The older man just sneered.
"With Carol and Daryl," Glenn ground out.
"Guess I'd better go 'n see it." Merle moved around the Asian boy, ignoring Glenn's protest.
Nearly a year had passed since he was reunited with his baby brother and they went to the prison. People had died and blood was spilt, but to Merle's surprise, the small group was able to defend the prison against the governor and the walkers. Eventually they had reclaimed and fortified the prison instead of moving on, into uncertainty. They weren't the same people they were a year ago, and his brother was the one who had changed the most. The first time Merle saw him with that mousy woman from the camp, he had finally been able to understand why Daryl said he belonged with the group. He hadn't meant he belonged with the group; he had meant he belonged with Carol. Daryl finally had a good woman, something that had eluded Merle his entire miserable life.
Merle rounded the corner and ducked into the cell where Carol was lying on a bottom bunk. Daryl was leaning against the wall, chewing on his thumb as he stared at his woman and the small bundle she held in her arms.
"So…what've we got?" Merle queried, rubbing the back of his neck with the metal contraption that served as his hand.
"'s a girl," Daryl answered hoarsely.
Merle snorted. "Jus' what we need. Lil' troublemaker." As far as he could remember, there were no female Dixons. Any women unlucky to have the name were fool enough to marry into the family. They all bore sons, if memory served him correctly.
Carol cast a glare in Merle's direction. "Her name is Abigail Rose," she corrected him.
"My mistake, mouse." He came closer to the bed and looked at the tiny red face of his niece. A year ago, the only blood he had was Daryl. He had accepted Carol because Daryl loved her, even if it made him weak. But she wasn't family. This kid was. Dixon blood ran through her veins; she even had the eyes. He felt something stir in him, something he had felt when Daryl was born. He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe from the world outside. His stony heart melted just the slightest as the baby yawned. "Cute, I guess." He couldn't let on to what he was feeling. Feelings and love were weakness to be used against him. But he did love her.
Blood was blood, after all.
The End.